


Don't Ask Don't Tell

by mandsangelfox



Series: SST Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Bathroom Sex, Boys Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Tags Are Hard, Unbeta'ed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:51:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandsangelfox/pseuds/mandsangelfox
Summary: His grip relaxes and in that moment he knows he’s made an error in judgment because gone is the blissed strung out expression on Alex’s face and instead it’s replaced by a hungry wanting expression not too dissimilar from a predator on the plains of Africa.





	Don't Ask Don't Tell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [estel_willow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_willow/gifts).



> Apologies to everybody in advance. This fic is totally unbeta'ed as it was for my regular beta and it felt suuuuper unfair to ask her to beta a fic I'd written for her so... yeah, forgive me?

This should not be happening but it is. The last time they did this was the last time they’d spoken because they’d argued as they tended to and it had ended with Alex walking out and Michael destroying half of his trailer.

Only that doesn’t stop them from colliding into the nearest bathroom stall of the Wild Pony like two horny teenagers who can barely keep it in their pants. Not necessarily too dissimilar because there is honestly something about Manes in uniform that does something to Michael. Not about to open up that Freudian conundrum thank you very much. Not when there’s more important things to be doing. Like focusing on how Alex is doggedly determined to make him lose all sense of rhyme and reason.

It’s anything but loving or romantic. It’s all need, want, and _now_. Evident in how their hands frantically pull at the fastenings of jeans and whatever-the-fuck those pants are called that Alex is currently wearing the shit out of. There are teeth on skin, leaving red angry marks behind, as if they’re looking to leave a tangible memory on one another so when they part ways like they always do there’s something that neither of them can ignore or deny.

Michael gets the upper hand first and he takes a firm grip, sliding the roughened edges of his calloused hand over the full length of Alex, the same one that swells and hardens under his well practiced and precise movements. He’s spent however many years learning how to take Alex apart so it’s no surprise that he knows all the tricks of the trade. If he’s honest with himself (and that’s rare in of itself) he gets off on seeing Alex come apart because of him. It makes him feel good, really good. Better than alcohol or acetone ever could. He knows Alex is close, can see it in the heavy gaze that regards him, the staggered breaths and the jerky uncoordinated movements of his hips as he keens for the ultimate release. Michael gives in, eventually, but not before he’s crushed his mouth to Alex’s and swallowed his groans of pleasure like it’s the nectar of the Gods or something. 

His grip relaxes and in that moment he knows he’s made an error in judgment because gone is the blissed strung out expression on Alex’s face and instead it’s replaced by a hungry wanting expression not too dissimilar from a predator on the plains of Africa. Well, _fuck_. Michael grunts out a breath as Alex easily reverses their positions, slams him against the wall and swiftly drops to his knees where he wastes no time in putting his mouth to good use.

Jesus fuck, Michael could come at just the sight of Alex on his knees but he doesn’t have that choice. Not when the other man is so fucking good with his tongue. “Fuck,” he utters as he pushes his fingers into the short - too short - dark stands of hair and tips his head back to try and catch his breath. Just as he thinks he’s got a handle on it Alex takes him in deep and Michael’s breath catches in the back of his throat and he literally cannot feel anything beyond that _wet_ heat and it would be embarrassing how quickly he comes if it was anyone other than Alex. As it is Alex does something to Michael he can’t quite explain and the frightening thing is if Alex was willing then Michael would let him do things to him forever.

Regretfully he realises that he went ahead and grabbed a fistful of Alex’s hair when his orgasm hit which must have hurt. Michael shoots Alex an apologetic look before he’s simply dragging him up into a kiss that is surprisingly tender when compared to their previous embraces. It might have gone further if not for the slamming of the fist against the door.

“Manes, you in there?”

It’s one of Alex’s soldier buddies and Michael can almost see the tension creeping up Alex’s spine as if somebody’s hooked him up to an electric chair and he knows in that moment that whatever could have happened won’t now.

“Go,” he manages, proud of how his voice doesn’t shake.

“What?” 

Michael inhales and presses his lips into a thin line as he looks Alex in the eye. “Go, I know you don’t want them to suspect anything.” Feels like a dirty little secret but that’s the harsh reality facing them. Alex is in the military, it’s don’t ask don’t tell, it’s just the way it is. 

“Mich-” Alex begins but is silenced by the lifting of Michael’s hand and he should argue, should tell him that he doesn’t want to go because he doesn’t, but he can’t. “I’ll uh see you later, yeah?”

Michael just nods and waits until Alex is gone to slam his head back into the wall until his ears ring and he no longer feels like such a fucking idiot. Of course he has nothing to lose, he’s just the town drunk, but Alex? He has everything to lose and honestly Michael doesn’t even want to think about what would happen if a hammer is what happens when his dad catches him as a teenager in a shed with another guy.

Doesn’t mean it hurts any less though.


End file.
